Safety in Numbness
by MissFee
Summary: Tony is again confronted by the man he is inside.  Sequel to "Child's Play", I suggest you read that first!
1. Chapter 1

**I'm back! Sorry for not updating the others AGAIN, but this was just too good to pass up. Will update this one quickly, I feel it in my waters. DISCLAIMER: I own nada. Please read and review! Much love xoxo**

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"...and that, my dear Zee-vah, is why you should never date someone who has an identical twin," concluded Anthony DiNozzo, with a cheeky smirk on his face.

Ziva David was simultaneously impressed and horrified that her partner had managed to get himself into that kind of situation at his age. "Tony, are you ever going to grow up?" she asked.

"Why? What's the point? Our job gets shittier and shittier all the time, least we can do is blow off some steam. Which reminds me of the time I went camping with the frat brothers two years ag- HEY!" he cried as ball after ball of screwed up paper rained down on his head.

"DiNozzo, David! Back to work! Don't make me come down there!" a familiar voice barked from the upper level. Once again, Gibbs the Omnipotent made his presence known.

Ziva sat back down at her desk grinning at her partner. She knew he was just trying to get a rise out of her and, damn him, it was working. Tim McGee walked past her desk and casually placed a large coffee in front of her. "Oh, perfect timing, thank you Tim," she said gratefully, inhaling the rich aroma deeply before taking a tentative sip.

"Where've you been McTardy-to-the-Party?" asked Tony, reaching for his own coffee.

Tim made as though he was giving the senior agent the hot beverage before neatly slipping it out of reach. "Keep giving me crap Tony, and not only will you not get this _delicious_ hazelnut latte, but you won't find out why I'm late!" grinned McGee.

Tony snorted. "As if I care," he muttered, all the time staring longingly at the coffee the other man dangled so tantalisingly close to his nose. Finally, he caved. "Okay, okay, sorry for giving you shit. Now can I have my coffee?" Tim relented and Tony clapped his hands in delight. Popping the cap off, he took a deep sip and sighed appreciatively. "Probie man, I just wanna let you know, if I ever give you a hard time again –"

"You'll be back to your old self," interrupted Gibbs, striding down the stairs and into the bullpen.

"Refill, Boss?" asked McGee, waggling a large 'Gibbs special' in front of him.

Gibbs said nothing, just smiled and took the proffered cup. His phone rang just as he seated himself at his desk. "Yeah, Gibbs." He listened, the expression on his face growing stonier by the second. "On it." He slammed the phone down.

"We got a case boss?" asked Tony. He knew that look on his mentor's face never boded well. Gibbs looked at him, and a flash of emotion raced through his eyes – was that pity? Tony wasn't sure, and when he looked again, his boss was all business.

"Grab your gear," he said standing up. "Zeke Wilkerson is missing."

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Flashback – 6 months ago:

_Tony had seen the look of sheer joy on the little boy's face as he was reunited with his father. A feeling that he couldn't put his finger on raced through his body – was it jealousy? Anger? Sorrow? He didn't know; all he knew for sure was that he had to get out of there._

_Placing his hand on the child's back, he echoed Jackie Vance's words to the overjoyed father: "Look after him, that's all the thanks I need." He turned sharply on his heel and headed towards the elevators, feeling overwhelmed._

_A tug on his jacket brought him a little out of his reverie. Zeke. The child hugged him tightly and asked if he could come to visit. "Anytime kid," he said. He pulled a business card out and gave it to the young man. "__You ever need me – need someone to talk to, or you're in trouble, you just call me okay? I'll come running, you just watch me." The elevator doors opened and Tony slid through them, desperately reining in his emotions. _

_He'd driven around mindlessly for hours, trying to make sense of this mess. The case had had a happy ending of sorts – kid reunited with his doting father – so why wasn't he feeling it? He eventually ended up at the only place he knew he could lose the façade – Gibbs' basement. He'd vented his spleen onto the man he looked at as a mixture of father, older brother and best friend, finally acknowledging that this case had stirred something deep inside._

* * *

Tony was unnaturally silent in the car on the way to Quantico Marine Base. Gibbs drove at his usual breakneck speed, stealing the occasional glance at the younger man. They arrived at Lt. Commander Wilkerson's house and came to an abrupt halt, the truck with Ziva and McGee right behind them. Tony made to open the door, but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

"You gonna be alright to work this one?" Gibbs asked. Tony just glared at him and, throwing the hand off, got out of the car and slammed the door. Gibbs felt in his gut that this could go pear-shaped very easily, and resolved to keep a closer eye than usual on Tony.

Together, the four agents made their way up the footpath and to the front door. Gibbs took the lead, weaving his way through the gathering of MP's and off-duty Marines, looking for the Commander. They found the man looking much older than his 38 years, head in his hands and sitting on the kitchen floor. Gibbs knelt down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Cameron, it's Gibbs from NCIS," he said softly.

Cameron Wilkerson looked up at Gibbs and the other agents with haunted eyes. "Gibbs – my boy, he's gone!" His voice cracked, but he managed to hold on to his composure.

This was too much for Tony to take. "I'm gonna check the kid's room, see if I can find anything there," he muttered to no one in particular before making good his escape. He walked through the house and familiarised himself with the layout, looking for any signs that would indicate a struggle. He headed down the hallway and began looking through doors before eventually stumbling onto what was Zeke's room. The house was different to the previous one – Wilkerson had requested a move, saying the house contained too many bad memories. Tony stood in the doorway of the room, taking it all in. So focused was he, that he didn't notice McGee come up behind him. He flinched a little when McGee put a hand on his shoulder, but didn't say anything. He felt tired. He felt old, and defeated.

McGee stood behind the senior agent for a moment and then put his hand on his shoulder again, gently turning him around. To his surprise, there was none of the usual spark and fire in the green eyes, instead a coldness that he hadn't seen since… well, since Jeanne. "Tony," he said softly, putting his other hand on the spare shoulder, "we'll find him. I know you and I know our team, and we _will_ find him."

Tony gazed into the hazel eyes of his Probie, before offering up a ghost of a smile. "You're right, Tim. Let's get to it," he said, snatching the camera from around McGee's neck.

* * *

The two men worked in silence processing the child's bedroom. Everything was photographed and documented – the toys, the books, the messed-up bed, even the knocked over water glass. McGee dusted for prints along the window and window sill, finding a few partials and little else. Still, he believed in what he'd told Tony, and he was determined to follow through with it. The bedside lamp had been knocked over and trodden on; McGee bagged it up as a 'just in case'. Casting an experienced eye over the room, he saw little else that could be construed as evidence. Meeting DiNozzo's eye, he knew the other agent felt the same.

They eventually finished up and rejoined the rest of their team.

"What've you got?" Tony asked Ziva shortly.

She shot her head up at the tone in his voice, but caught the expression on his face and changed tack instantly. "I have been outside and searched for evidence; there was very little – a few footprints in the dirt but that's it. Gibbs is still with the Commander. He believes that Zeke may have been snatched in the early morning, around dawn. He was at a dinner last night in the Officer's Club with a few friends, and a babysitter was looking after the child. Wilkerson returned home last night just before midnight and sent the girl home."

"We got a name?"

"Yes. Lara Bowie. She is the daughter of one of Wilkerson's colleagues."

"Why does Wilkerson think Zeke was taken around dawn?" asked McGee, his brow furrowing.

Ziva shot a nervous glance at Tony. "He wakes up each morning at 0500, and goes running. Each morning, he locks the door behind him and leaves Zeke at home asleep. He is home no later than half past six, at which time Zeke normally wakes up."

"Creatures of habit," murmured McGee.

Tony mulled over this for a minute, his anger growing. "How can anyone leave a kid this age on their own for that long, for Christ's sake!" he hissed angrily. He could feel his temper rising and he wasn't quite sure why.

McGee stepped in. "Because when you live on a naval base, you feel as though it's the safest place on Earth," he reasoned. "When we were kids and Dad was at sea, Mom would often leave us on our own while she went shopping or whatever. You just don't think that these sorts of things can happen on Base Tony. Lots of parents have made the same call."

What McGee said made sense, and Tony knew it. Changing tack slightly, he asked, "what about this kid's illness?"

Ziva went blank for a moment and then remembered. "Oh! I am not certain, Gibbs is still talking to the Commander."

"And now, Gibbs is here," boomed the voice of the Lead agent. "C'mon, there's not much more we can do here. I got three search parties coordinated with the MP's, they're gonna search every inch of this base and check in with us regularly. Meantime, we've got work to do. Back to the Yard; the faster we work, the sooner we'll find him." He dismissed his team with a jerk of his head and turned to head back to the kitchen.

"Boss," a voice said quietly behind him. Gibbs turned around to see Tony standing somewhat uncertainly close by. "What about the kid's illness?" he asked again.

Gibbs took a deep breath. "Wilkerson's specialist has got Zeke on some pretty powerful meds. They're hopeful they can slow the onset of the virus, but it's imperative that the drugs are administered regularly. All of the kid's meds are still in the cupboard." He hadn't wanted to tell the younger man that last piece of information, but he knew it would light the fire inside once more.

He was right; Tony's eyes took on a hardened edge. "This son of a bitch is gonna suffer when I get my hands on him," he vowed. "You comin' back with me or you wanna come later?"

"I'll be back later, you head back with Ziva and McGee. Get moving!" Gibbs barked, smiling grimly to himself. The fire was lit, and Anthony DiNozzo would be back on the top of his game within minutes, of that he was certain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

* * *

By the time Gibbs arrived back at the Navy Yard, his mood had deteriorated fast. He strode into the bullpen and barked, "sitrep!"

Ziva jumped up and grabbed the remote for the plasma. "So far, everything the Commander has said checks out. We have confirmed that he left the Officer's Club at half past eleven last night. He was with his former CO and a few other colleagues from the _Reagan_, which as you know was his last posting. He has since been transferred to a posting at the Naval Surface Weapons Centre in Bethesda, where he is now overseeing weapons training for recruits. The Navy have been quite flexible since the death of his wife."

Gibbs took a mouthful of coffee and fixed the probationary agent with a glare. "You wanna tell me something I don't already know, David?"

Unflinching, she went on calmly. "We have given the little evidence we had to Abby to work her magic on. Currently we are running searches on reports from the Weapons Centre to see if there was anyone there with a grudge against the Commander."

McGee cut in, "I've set up a facial recognition program to track the Commander's movements early this morning from the security cameras on Base, as well as any unauthorised visitors that may have been around. It'll take time but it's our best shot Boss."

"What about DiNozzo?"

"Uh…"

"Here! Right here Boss," Tony called as he jogged to his desk. "I've just been down to see Ducky, see what might happen if Zeke misses his medications."

"And?" Gibbs asked impatiently.

"Well the good news is, he can go without for 48 hours and suffer no long-term effects. The drugs he's on just slow the development of the virus, like you said. But he's a kid, and growing all the time right? So after that, it's anybody's guess. We don't know what's gonna happen. Ducky seems to think he'll just start feeling sick and lethargic."

Gibbs rubbed a hand over his face. "Do we have _anything_ we can work with?" He was met with silence. "Fine. I'm gonna brief the Director."

* * *

"Tim, you got a sec?" asked Tony quietly, sidling up to his Probie's desk.

McGee looked up in surprise, but quickly composed himself. "Sure Tony, what's up?" he asked cautiously.

"Let's do a coffee run, yeah?"

"Uh… sure," he agreed, grabbing his wallet and slipping his jacket on. It was November and the weather was anything but agreeable. The two men walked out of the bullpen and stepped into the elevator.

They walked for a few minutes in silence until it became apparent to McGee that coffee was the last thing on his friend's mind. "What's up Tony?" he tried again.

Tony was silent for a few more beats, trying to get his thoughts together. "There's just something… off about this case, McGee, I don't know how to explain it," he said softly. He walked over to a bench and sat down, exhaling heavily.

McGee sat down next to him. "Your gut?"

"Yeah," said the other man. "It just doesn't make sense that after all they've been through together, Wilkerson would just leave his son _alone_ for a couple of hours every morning!"

"Is that the only thing that's bothering you?" McGee's tone was doubtful; he trusted the older agent implicitly, but he also knew that his objectiveness towards the case was a little… hinky.

"Not just that; there's also no witnesses and no evidence of a struggle. Add to that that the kid's room hasn't been trashed, there's no sign of a break and enter… I don't know, it just doesn't add up." He looked at McGee, the pain clear in his eyes.

McGee sighed. "Have you told Gibbs any of this?" he asked, even though he thought he already knew the answer.

Tony snorted and shook his head. "The Boss would just say I'm breaking Rule 10 again and letting it cloud my judgement."

"Are you?"

Tony looked sharply at McGee, but realised there was no harm intended – he genuinely wanted to help. "Hell man, I don't know. I don't think so. All the same, keep this to yourself, yeah?"

"You got it, man. On your six!" quipped McGee, grinning slightly. Then he sobered. "What do you want me to do? Apart from keep my mouth shut, that is."

"Put a tracer on Wilkerson's phones, email, everything. I hope to Christ I'm wrong, but it doesn't hurt to be thorough." Tony stood up and offered a hand out to McGee. "C'mon, we'd better get those coffees if we want to live to see dinner."

* * *

Meanwhile, Gibbs paced impatiently outside Vance's closed door. Cynthia had told him a number of times that the Director was on a conference call with the Pentagon and could not be disturbed, but she may as well have been saying that the grass was purple for all he was listening. The only thing stopping him from barging in as per usual was that for once the door was locked – and Cynthia wasn't giving up the key.

After what felt like an hour, but in reality had only been a few minutes, Cynthia stood and unlocked the door. Jerking her head towards it, she ushered Gibbs inside and slammed the door behind him.

"Gibbs, if I've asked you once, I've asked you a dozen times – _please_ do not piss off my secretary," said Vance tiredly. "What've you got for me?"

"Cameron Wilkerson's kid is missing," said Gibbs bluntly.

"This the Lt. Commander who's wife was murdered a few months back?" Vance reached into the recesses of his mind for the case. "The one who's kid is HIV?"

Gibbs nodded. "Now he's workin' in Bethesda, in Surface Weapons."

"This a national security threat?"

"Not sure yet. No ransom has been made, no calls or demands – nothin'. Just came to give you the heads-up." Gibbs walked towards the door.

"I'll brief the SecNav; you keep me posted," called Vance.

Gibbs merely grunted his assent, and closed the door behind him.

* * *

By the time Gibbs made it back down the bullpen, his two boys were back and distributing coffees and snacks between the desks. McGee sat back down behind his desk, and quickly set up the traces Tony had requested. Normally he'd be a little unsure about the legalities with these, but there was a missing kid at stake, so he'd do what the team did first – seek forgiveness rather than permission. Plus, the more he thought about the crime scene – or lack thereof – the more he was convinced that Tony may be on to something.

Opening his IM box, he quickly shot a message to Tony.

_**ElfLord:**_

_All set up T. Any and all incoming or outgoing contacts and we'll be the first to know._

_**MagnumsMo:**_

_Brilliant. Thanks again, man, I owe ya._

_**ElfLord:**_

_Hey, you changed your handle! What happened to 'TwinTastic'?_

_**MagnumsMo:**_

_Long story McNosy. Suffice to say you should NEVER get involved with twins. Ever. _

McGee let out a snort of laughter, but managed to cover it up with what he hoped was a convincing cough. He signed off the IM, vowing to get the full story out of his friend when the case was over.

Gibbs looked over at the two men. He knew they were up to something, he just didn't know what. And all things considered, he probably didn't _want_ to know. Instead, he barked out a few orders. "McGee, check the Commander's cell and bank accounts, see if there's anything off in them. DiNozzo, David – you get over to Wilkerson's office, see if anyone there knew of any problems the Commander might've been having."

Ziva stood up and grabbed her gun and badge, but DiNozzo didn't move from his desk. "Boss, you still haven't told us what Wilkerson said to you when you talked to him."

Gibbs glared at Tony, who glared right back. "Fine. Wilkerson said he didn't know of anyone who had a grudge against him or the kid, except the guys we put in prison. I've got a call in to Fornell to read him in; he might be able to get something out of the civilians. You happy now?" he asked pointedly.

Tony's face remained expressionless. "Not really, but it'll have to do," he said shortly. He stood up and opened his drawer for his gun, keeping his face carefully neutral.

Ziva and McGee watched the two men try and out-stubborn the other. In the end, neither would back down so both turned away almost by agreement.

Tony walked by Ziva's desk and beckoned her to follow him. A little confused by what had just transpired, she picked up her jacket and quickly followed him.

McGee just stared, slightly surprised by Gibbs' seemingly purposeful lack of cooperation.

Gibbs walked by and smacked the back of his head. "Today, Mah-Gee," he shot, dragging the name out the way he did whenever he was frustrated.

"On it Boss," the young man murmured, putting his head down and his hands to work. He didn't know what the hell was going on here, but there was no way it could end well, that much he knew for sure.


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow. Just… holy snappin' duck-shit WOW. What a response to the first couple of chapters! So many hits, so many story alerts and of course some lovely reviews. Be warned boys and girls, it's gonna get crazier from here on in. As always, read and review, I do love it… xo**

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Chapter 3.

Zeke Wilkerson struggled to open his eyes. They felt heavy, like someone had hung weights off them, and it made just blinking seem like the hardest thing in the world to do. He eventually managed to keep them open for a few minutes, blinking slowly and trying to get his bearings. He tried to sit up, but couldn't. Huh. Why couldn't he? He felt something around his wrists and pulled at them. Someone had tied him to the bed.

"Hello?" he tentatively called. "Dad? Where are you?" He didn't want to cry; his dad had taught him to be brave. His bottom lip wobbled, but he fought the urge. He heard footsteps, then a door open. He turned his head eagerly, and was immediately disappointed. "Where's my dad?" the little man asked defiantly.

"All in good time, Zeke, I promise."

Zeke looked quizzically down at the restraints and pulled at them again, as if testing them. "Why've you tied me up?"

"We didn't want you hurting yourself now, did we? But you're awake, so I see no reason that we can't take them off." Hands busied themselves at the straps, quickly and efficiently undoing them.

Zeke flexed his arms and legs carefully, a little unsure at the recent turn of events. "So… can I go home now Uncle?" he asked hopefully.

'Uncle' gave a short laugh that made the hair on the back of the child's neck stand on end. "Sorry pal, you'll be here for a while. Make yourself comfortable, there's a good boy. I'll be back later." He ruffled Zeke's hair, which made the child squirm. He walked away and slammed the door behind him.

The sniffles that had threatened to strike before made their presence known, and two fat tears rolled down Zeke's face. He wiped them away, determined not to cry. He wasn't sure why, but for some reason he got the feeling that if he did he'd be in a lot of trouble. Clutching the thin pillow for comfort, he rolled onto his side and curled into a ball, all the time biting his lip tightly.

* * *

Gibbs drove back to the Wilkerson house lost in thought. He couldn't put his finger on DiNozzo's problem, and that in itself was frustrating. He couldn't remember a time that his senior agent had so openly doubted him, and sure as hell couldn't understand why it would happen now. The crime scene itself was niggling at Gibbs' gut, but he trusted his team to put together the pieces – if there were any to put together in the first place. Banging his head lightly against the steering wheel, he mentally pulled himself together and exited the car. He needed to supervise the agents he'd assigned if and when a ransom call came through.

Tony and Ziva flashed their ID's at the security gates of the Weapons Centre and were waved through. They were met at the front entrance by a short, solidly-built man in navy whites who looked rather distressed.

"Agents, I'm Captain Mark Keely, Cameron's CO. Please, come with me."

"I take it you know why we're here?" asked Tony.

"Of course, of course – Cameron called in about an hour ago, said he couldn't come in today." He spoke quickly as he ushered them into his office. "I just can't believe that someone would want to take that poor boy."

"Well that's what we're here to find out," said Ziva briskly. She took out her notebook. "Have there been any problems here recently that we should be aware of?"

Keely shook his head vigorously. "No, none at all. Well, not concerning Cameron at any rate. He's a good trainer – all the recruits look up to him, all the others here admire him. He's been through a lot in the last year and he's still good at his job."

Tony was sceptical. "So you're telling me, out of the hundreds of recruits that have no doubt passed under his eye at one stage or another, that _not one_ of them had a beef with him? And that out of your staff of –" he checked his own notebook "- 23 officers and 14 civilians, they all thought he was the bee's knees?"

Keely squirmed under the gaze of the two agents. "Look, there were never any real problems. Sometimes he could be a hard-ass, but hell it's the Navy! We want hard-working sailors for the service!"

"Which brings us back to our original question," said Ziva impatiently. "Were there any problems _concerning_ Lt. Commander Wilkerson recently?"

Keely shrank under the Israeli woman's steely gaze. Finally, he burst, "okay, look! There were a few recruits that thought he was a bit rough, but we investigated! There was nothing to it, I swear!"

"What about the civilians? Any problems with your contractors we should know about? Or should we just, you know, get a search warrant and go through all your records with a fine tooth comb?" shot Tony sarcastically.

"No, no, no need for that," said Keely hastily, wiping the beading sweat from his brow. "There was a little bit of scuttlebutt that Wilkerson and some of the other serving officers were pissed that Cronfield were cutting corners to save money, but nothing came of it."

"Cronfield? Who are they?"

"They're an armament supplier, one of our biggest. They've been working on a few new projects, but money's tight. Global recession and all."

"Right. And this affected the Commander how…?" asked Ziva. She was nearing the end of her tether, and Tony was right behind her.

"When you cut corners, sometimes things aren't as they should be. The occasional jammed firing pin, or grenades that don't go off. Wilkerson made an official complaint in writing to myself and our director insisting that something be done about it. An investigation was started, but again, nothing came of it." He stood up, suddenly feeling a little braver than he had previously done. "Look, I've given you everything I know. I think we're done here, now if you'll excuse me, I've got to get back to work."

Tony and Ziva looked at each other, and also stood. "Well, thank you for your time Captain. We'll be in touch," she said, effectively silencing the insult that seemed ready to spring from her partner's lips. Tony just glared at the officer in front of him before turning on his heel and stalking out the door.

* * *

McGee sat at his computer, checking and rechecking the information that his searches had generated. This was crazy; he couldn't believe what was right in front of his eyes.

Reaching for his phone, he blindly hit the speed dial. "Hey," he said after a moment, "we got a hit."

* * *

Gibbs had been sitting in the living room with Wilkerson for some time now, with no news.

"Cameron," he asked patiently, "can you think of _any_ reason why someone would want to take Zeke from you?"

"For the hundredth time Gibbs, I told you I don't know!" he shouted angrily. "What about the assholes who raped him, huh? Did ya ever think it could be one of them out to get him?"

Gibbs stood his ground. "My contact at the FBI has checked them all out. There is no longer anything tying them to your son," he said calmly. "What about your work? Any enemies in the weapons industry?"

"Hell if I know, I just teach kids how to use the damn things." Wilkerson slumped back in his chair and covered his face with his hands. "I just want my boy back," he whispered.

"I know," said Gibbs, "and we're doin' everything we can. But you gotta work with us Cameron."

"I'm trying," he said in a broken voice. "I'm trying."

The cell phone on the coffee table in front of them began buzzing. Gibbs quickly jumped up and summoned the techs to begin the trace, then instructed Wilkerson to pick up the phone.

Taking a deep breath, he answered. "This is Wilkerson."

"_You want to see your boy again?"_ a computerised voice said.

"More than anything. Whatever you want, I'll do it," he said, struggling to maintain composure. Gibbs clapped a hand on his shoulder in encouragement and squeezed.

"_Then you do as I say. First, get rid of the Feds. Then, you're gonna get me $2 million in cash. You have 6 hours to come up with the money. Further instructions will come."_

Gibbs scribbled something on a piece of paper and slid it under the Commander's nose. Reading quickly, he asked the question. "How do I know my boy's still alive?"

"_Trust, Commander. Trust. You have six hours."_ The phone disconnected before a definitive trace was able to be sourced.

"Dammit!" cried Wilkerson, hurling the phone across the room.

"Cameron, it's alright, its okay," said Gibbs. Looking over his shoulder at Agent Bailey, he hissed, "Get that over to McGee right away." The agent nodded and bolted from the room, tapes firmly in his hand. "We'll sort this out, Cameron, I promise you," he vowed.

"But you heard him, he said no Feds. That means you guys!"

"We'll figure something out. We always do. Meanwhile, I'm gonna leave Agent O'Hare and his team here as a precaution, while I head back to the Yard. We've got six hours, and a lot of work to do. Sit tight." With that, Gibbs turned and walked out of the room. Something didn't feel right, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was.


	4. Chapter 4

**Again, thanks to everyone who's alerting my little story, and for the reviews I have received. Let's keep going...**

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Chapter 4.

Tony's phone began ringing just as they were walking out of the Weapons Centre. Seeing it was McGee, he answered quickly. "Hey man," he said. He listened for a minute. "We're on our way." He snapped the phone shut and got behind the wheel of the car.

"Who was that?" asked Ziva.

"McGee," he replied shortly.

Ziva looked at him expectantly, before realising that there would be no more information forthcoming. "And?" she asked.

"He's got something for us."

"Oh for... Tony, are you going to make me beat you to talk?" she spat, getting angry.

"Ziva... oh forget it," said DiNozzo. He was too preoccupied to argue with her.

"No, Tony, I will not just _forget it_," she fired. "We are partners, yes? Which means we talk to each other, yes? So why will you not tell me what is going on?"

Ignoring the traffic around them, Tony weaved the car to the side of the road and slammed on the brakes. He looked at her, the intensity in his eyes surprising her.

"Fine," he growled. "McGee's running some traces for me because I don't trust Wilkerson. It doesn't feel right, and McGee agrees. I don't believe for a second that someone just _happened_ to kidnap a child from a Marine base, not without inside help at least."

Ziva remained silent for a minute, digesting this information. Finally, she reached for Tony's hand and squeezed tightly. "Then we shall figure this out together. As a team – you, me and McGee."

Tony glanced at her in surprise. "What about Gibbs?"

"I could see how you and he were... marking territory this morning. We shall do this ourselves, and if we find something solid to work with, then I believe we should inform him. Until then, we have to remember that he is a father that also lost his child. I believe his own judgement may be a little..." she waved her hands around, trying to find the right word.

"Hinky?" supplied Tony, a small grin on his face.

"That's the one. Yes. I do not believe that he is being completely honest with us."

Tony was quiet for a minute. "You do know that I could just do this on my own? There's no need for you and McGee to be dragged down with me if I'm wrong."

"If you are wrong, then we all are wrong. It is better to stick together, yes?" She patted the side of his face and grinned. "Do not worry my little hairy-butt, we are all going down together."

* * *

McGee was trawling through all financial records for the last 6 months for Wilkerson. He was getting a headache from trying to follow all the routing and re-routing the money was doing. "For a guy with nothing to hide, he's sure doin' an awful lot of hiding," he said aloud to himself.

"Who's hiding?" a bright voice asked him.

McGee glanced up and saw Abby bouncing in front of his desk. He quickly minimised the search screens, making sure nothing was immediately visible. "Hey Abs! Good timing, I could use the distraction," he smiled.

"Hey! I came to you for a distraction!"

"Well, let's both be distracted together," he chuckled. "You get anything off the evidence we brought back?"

Abby perched on the the edge of his desk and began twirling a pigtail through her fingers. "Fingerprints from the window were a no-go. Barely enough for a partial, and even then I couldn't really narrow it down. Seriously, the part of the pattern that was clearest belongs to at least 3000 Marines – and that's just the ones who have access to Quantico on a regular basis!"

Tim frowned at this; he knew it hadn't been much to start with, but it was a blow nonetheless. "Anything else?"

"Patience, my Timmy, is a virtue best learned," she said, adopting a meditative pose and grinning.

"I dare you to tell that to Gibbs."

"Caf-Pow for a week and I'll do it!"

"You're on. Now come on, tell me. What am I being patient for?"

"Footprints that Ziva found are a size 11 mens. The shoe in question is a New Balance sneaker. Specifically one made just for long-distance runners."

McGee stood up and kissed her on the cheek, a la Gibbs. "That's good work Abs," he mimicked his boss, which earned him a laugh.

"Alrighty, I'm still running a few bits and pieces on a hunch, so I'll get back down there. Pass on the news will ya?" She slid neatly off his desk and skipped out of the bullpen.

McGee sat back down at his computer, secure in the knowledge that Tony would surely be able to make something of this new information. He sighed to himself, and began running through the tapes that Agent Bailey had brought him.

* * *

The elevator arrived up at the bullpen and Tony and Ziva all but ran back to McGee's desk. "What did you get Tim?" Ziva asked.

McGee looked at Ziva, then over at Tony, who just shrugged and said, "She read herself in man."

"Right. Okay. Oh yeah, the message! A text was sent from Wilkerson's phone a few minutes after nine. All it said was, 'we good?' A reply came in a few minutes after, saying 'no problem'. I traced the message back to a burn phone, no surprises there of course, and I'm still trying to narrow down the location. Whoever this guy is, he's smart. He's got the satellites bouncing halfway around the world, making it nearly impossible to pin him down. I'm not gonna stop trying though," he added, a touch defensively.

Tony clapped him on the shoulder. "That's good work Tim. What about forensics? Has Abby gotten anything yet?"

"Nothin' on the prints off the window, but the footprints that Ziva found are a size 11 mens runner. I just checked his personnel files; Wilkerson wears a size 11 dress shoe."

Tony nodded, lost in thought. Ziva, however, had other ideas. "This is good, yes? So why do we not bring in Wilkerson and heat him?"

The two men looked at her slightly puzzled before the lightbulb finally went off in Tim's head. "You mean _sweat_ him, I think," he said.

"Heat, sweat, whatever," she said dismissively. "I believe I could make him talk."

"Make who talk, Probationary Agent David?" growled a low voice, causing the three younger agents to jump.

"Gibbs! What are you doing back here? I thought you were staying with the Commander," she said, wildly trying to regain her composure, while McGee busied himself at his computer once more. Only Tony appeared unperturbed by Gibbs' sudden appearance.

"We have a possible suspect, Gibbs," said Tony in an even voice.

"Yeah? You gonna share the intel DiNozzo, or is it on a need-to-know basis?" shot back Gibbs.

"Depends. You gonna share what you got from Wilkerson?" Once again, both men went toe to toe, neither willing to back down. Ziva and McGee exchanged glances. This was familiar territory once more.

After a few minutes, Gibbs spoke. "Ransom call came in around 9:20. Kidnapper wants $2 mill in cash and the feds gone." He was still glaring at Tony, not breaking eye contact.

"McGee – you get anything off the tape?" asked Tony, still not backing down.

"Nothing traceable yet. The call was heavily encrypted, it'll take me some time, but I'll get there," said McGee quietly.

"Good. Keep working on it. Meanwhile I'm gonna work on those financials. You seen any patterns?" Tony broke off the staring contest and stood behind McGee.

"A few, nothing concrete. Trying to trace a few payments, but again it'll take time. I can email you some stuff to go over if you like?"

"Do it, McGee. Tony, my office. Now!" barked Gibbs, tired of the games.

"No Gibbs. You got somethin' to say to me, you say it in front of these guys." Tony stood his ground.

Gibbs looked between the faces of his team and saw, not for the first time, that they were banding together as one. Had the circumstances been any different, he would've been proud, but for the time being he was pissed.

"Fine. I wanna know what the _hell_ is going on! What's with all the secrets?" spat Gibbs.

"You thought this morning that I would have a problem keeping my objectivity with this case Gibbs."

"And?"

"Well, I didn't like the crime scene. There's no evidence of a struggle, a break and enter – nothing. It's like the kid just vanished out of thin air. And none of us believe that's true. My gut says that Wilkerson knows more about this than he's letting on."

Gibbs ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "He's a father for God's sake! A man who lost his wife six months ago and is trying to do his best for his son! You wanna accuse him of setting up his own child then you'd better have some damn good evidence to back it up."

"Gibbs, perhaps it is not Tony's judgement that is clouded here," interjected Ziva quietly.

Gibbs turned on her ferociously. "Is that so, David?"

Turning to Ziva, Tony murmured, "I got this." Facing Gibbs once again, he said, "Gibbs, it's not the first time that you've been a little conflicted when it comes to cases involving kids. I made the call, but Ziva and Tim both agree – there's something not right about this case. So you either work with us, or against us."

Gibbs stared hard at the man in front of him. Tony's expression was hard but his eyes were filled with compassion.

"C'mon Boss, work with us. We all just want to find Zeke and bring him home," he said softly.

Closing his eyes, Gibbs focussed on his protégé's words. His team were right, he _had_ been conflicted. But then, how did he explain Wilkerson's seemingly genuine grief? Opening his eyes, he saw his team – hell, his family – looking at him expectantly. Snaking an arm around, he smacked himself firmly in the back of the head and smiled faintly at the others. "Let's find the kid."


	5. Chapter 5

**Orright, sorry about the delay in updating. It's been a curious few days; my head has been pretty far up my own arse and I've had a little trouble seeing the bigger picture. BUT yesterday I went to the city for the welcome home parade for our Australian Army boys and girls – in particular 6RAR back from Afghanistan, the Australian Light Horse back from various posts, and the reservists who've just come back from Peacekeeping throughout the Pacific. Woke me up a little to say the least! To those who have alerted: thank you! To those that have reviewed: if I haven't replied yet, I'm sorry but I'll get there ASAP. Cross my heart. Much love xoxo**

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Chapter 5.

Cameron Wilkerson alternated between pacing restlessly throughout his house, and sitting flopped on the couch staring at the ceiling. How could this have happened, he asked himself for what felt like the millionth time. He'd checked on his boy this morning before he went for his run; Zeke had been snoring his little head off. He reached back through his memory, desperate to find something that would help the NCIS team find his boy, and came up a blank. He ran the usual path; saw the usual faces. There was nothing out of the ordinary that had happened, and yet… a nagging feeling had struck him about half way through his workout, and it was one he'd learned many years ago to trust. He'd cut his run short and headed for home, the sickening feeling growing stronger with each stride. Arriving back at the house, he'd let himself in and headed straight for Zeke's room. His boy – his beautiful brave boy – was gone.

Wilkerson's first thought had been that Zeke may have gone for a walk himself. He had done that a few times in the past, insisting to his father that he was a 'big boy' and could take care of himself, and he liked exploring his new neighbourhood. A few caring swats to the little fellow's backside had cured him of that habit, at least the part where he didn't mention to his father that he was going off. So the Commander ran back out of the house and visited all of Zeke's favourite haunts – the playground, the creek, the old Cold War bunkers – and come up with nothing. Refusing to accept that his boy had been stolen, but acknowledging that he was in over his head, he had made the call to the MP's on Base.

He began piecing parts of the last six months together, in an attempt to find a pattern – something that would lead him if not to his boy, then at least to part of the story. He paced the living room floor once more, lost in thought. He ran through his daily and weekly routines, trying to find _something_ – and then it hit him. He'd texted the asshole that very morning to check that it had all gone through, and he'd come back in the affirmative! For a minute he felt as though he might vomit, but he forced himself to calm down and think rationally.

Growling angrily to himself, he took himself down to the basement and began hurling punch after punch at the boxing bag hanging in the middle of the room. Fifteen minutes later, he was breathing heavily and sweating, but felt no better than he had before. It was time for action; he couldn't sit around and wait any longer. Taking the stairs two at a time, and ignoring the squawks of protest coming from Agent O'Hare, he headed out front the door and into his car.

* * *

McGee tried _another_ encryption key and formula, determined to find the source of the ransom call. The error message flashed up, just as it had done countless times before. "Dammit!" he swore, smacking his hand down onto his desk.

"Whoa, take it easy, McAnger-Management," called Tony from behind his own computer.

"Shut up DiNozzo," growled Gibbs. He knew that Tony's attempt at levity was more to make himself feel better than anything else, but that didn't mean it was justified. To McGee he said "go out and get some air, McGee. Take a break for a few minutes, then come back at this with a clear mind."

McGee threw his boss a grateful glance, shot a dirty one at Tony then, to show he was teasing, stuck his tongue out at the SFA, and picked up his jacket and wallet. "Coffee, food anyone?" A chorus of yes's and one grunt – Gibbs – gave him his answer and he headed towards the elevator.

Tony kept working through the financial records that McGee had emailed him, noticing the same patterns-that-weren't that his Probie had. He frowned as he matched almost a dozen payments of $250 to a numbered account. He entered the account details into his search programs but got nowhere. Making a mental note to get some help tracing it from McGee, he moved on. There were the usual expenditures in Wilkerson's bank statements – supermarket, clothing stores, his son's specialist, pharmacy – but the balance was never very high.

"Hey Boss," said Tony, sending the electronic copies of the statements to the plasma, "what do you see here?"

"I don't have time for games, DiNozzo," said Gibbs in a tired voice. This case had been playing on his own personal demons since it fell into his lap and he was more than a little pissed at his own judgement – or lack thereof.

"Just look!" pressed Tony.

Gibbs spun around on his chair and looked at the images on the screen. After a minute he spoke. "I see a low bank balance. So what? Mine's not all that flash after years of alimony payments."

"This," said Tony, highlighting the regular withdrawals of between $100 and $200, up to three times a week, "makes me wonder…"

"Could he be paying somebody off?" asked Ziva, as she made her way over to the two men.

"Possible. But then how do you explain _these_?" he asked, bringing up the wired payments of $250.

"Saving for a rainy day?"

"What's the account?" asked Gibbs curiously.

Tony shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine, Boss. I tried to search it and came up with squat. McGoo might have some more luck."

Gibbs phone rang; he glanced at the caller ID and scowled. "Yeah, Gibbs." He listened for a moment. "What the hell? When? … Where did he go? … Whaddya mean you don't know? … Dammit O'Hare, you find him, we clear? Or your ass is gonna be mine!" He hung up the phone and flung it onto his desk. Looking up at the confused faces on his team, he spat, "Wilkerson's done a runner."

* * *

Zeke wriggled around on the small bed restlessly. He was starting to feel a little sick in his tummy; it had been hours since dinner last night. "Uncle?" he called out nervously. No answer. Slipping off the bed, he walked over to the door and knocked hard. "Uncle, you there?" he called again. He kept knocking and banging on the door, getting more and more frightened. He tugged on the doorknob, and to his surprise, it twisted and the door opened. Feeling a bizarre combination of nerves and daring, he stuck his head out and looked around. He didn't recognise the house he was in; it definitely wasn't 'Uncle's' house.

A little bolder now, he stepped out and into the hallway. He crept along quietly, pretending he was just like his friend Special Agent Tony, and about to catch the bad guys. By the time he made it into the living room, he felt infinitely braver. He cast an eye around the room; it was definitely empty. In fact, he was sure the whole house was empty. There were no sounds anywhere, no smells coming from the kitchen, no noises coming from the laundry or garage. Screwing up all of his courage, he moved noiselessly to the front door, opened it as carefully as he could, and stepped outside. He had done it! He was outside, and no one had caught him! Zeke grinned to himself, but remembered that he was still lost. He walked down the steps and towards the footpath, and checking to make sure no one was looking, began to run as though his life depended on it.

* * *

Wilkerson drove fast; fear for his boy's safety competing with the anger he aimed towards himself. If his instincts were right, he was responsible for this mess, so he was sure as hell going to be the one to clean it up.

* * *

McGee arrived back at the bullpen only to be met with a cry of "Probie, get your ass over here!" Tony's tone was urgent and McGee abandoned the tray of drinks and sandwiches he'd juggled back to the office on Ziva's desk. Slipping behind his computer, he noticed that two of his searches had come back with positive matches.

"Boss, I've got the burn phone traced," he said, fingers flying across his keyboard. "No name but I've narrowed it down to a two-block radius."

"Good work Tim. Now trace Wilkerson's cell," ordered Gibbs.

Tony stepped in. "Wilkerson left his house and we don't know where he's gone. Find him!"


	6. Chapter 6

**So, coffee and TeeVee Snacks are keeping me fired up. Don't ask me how or why they've revved my mojo in such a manner, they just have. Don't judge! xoxoxo**

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Chapter 6.

Zeke ran for almost four blocks until a lack of oxygen forced him to stop. He had no idea where exactly he was, all he knew for certain was that he was in trouble. Looking around him, he tried to regain his bearings and remember all the things his father had taught him. Unfortunately, apart from 'red sky at night, sailors' delight; red sky in morn, sailors' be warned', and how to tie his shoelaces, he was coming up empty handed. Fighting back sobs once more, Zeke walked over to a park bench and sat down. He knew that Agent Tony would be able to help him, but he didn't know how to get in touch with him. He was afraid to go to one of the nearby houses, in case they took him back to 'Uncle'. He tucked his knees up to his chest, and rested his chin on them.

* * *

"Boss, we got a hit!" called McGee, scrambling to pull the map up on the plasma.

"Where?"

"Highway 81, headin' towards Baltimore."

"Good. Call the locals with a BOLO and tell them to stop him." Gibbs voice was neutral, but with steely undertones.

McGee was already in contact with the Baltimore PD, emailing a BOLO at the same time. His computer signalled another successful search just as he disconnected the call. "Holy crap, I thought that only happened to Abby," he mumbled to himself. He waved the others over and changed the images on the screen in the bullpen. "I found where the money has been going," he said triumphantly.

"Who's this douchebag?" asked Tony, staring hard at the photograph on screen.

"Guys, meet Doctor Kenneth Wilkerson."

"No way. That's not… is it?" Tony was nearly speechless.

McGee nodded grimly. "Lt. Commander _Cameron_ Wilkerson's big brother."

"We got anything on this guy McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Well, kinda…" McGee hedged.

Gibbs smacked the back of his head. "Now is _not_ the time, Tim," he growled.

"So, you'll cover my ass when the shit hits the fan?"

Gibbs merely gave his young agent a look that said, 'when have I not?' McGee grinned slightly, and pointed the remote back towards the plasma.

"The good doctor was heavily discredited back in the late 90's because of what were considered radical ideas and experiments on his patients. Eventually his private practice went bust thanks to a couple of lawsuits that were settled out of court, but the CIA decided they liked his style. He's been working for them for almost 10 years, developing viruses, antidotes, treatments… you name it, he's had a hand in it."

"So what's with the payments?" asked Tony.

McGee shrugged. "We'll have to ask the Commander that one, but I'm guessing it's for treatment for the kid. After all, who better than to experiment HIV cures on than with a human guinea pig?"

Ziva cursed under her breath in Hebrew; Gibbs crushed his (thankfully empty) coffee cup in his fist and hurled it across the bullpen. Tony was silent, but McGee could feel the anger radiating off him. Looking to get them all back on track, McGee continued on his spiel. "I was able to trace the burn phone to the store it was purchased at; it took a while but I got there finally. Doctor Wilkerson is on security footage paying cash for half a dozen phones."

"So, we've got this all wrong then? Wilkerson had _nothing_ to do with his son's disappearance?" Tony looked as though he could be sick at any moment.

"I wouldn't say that, DiNozzo," Gibbs said gruffly. "He didn't tell us anything about his brother treating his son's illness; we could've done something with this hours ago. Ziva, go see Ducky; get him to call the kid's specialist and talk to him, doctor to doctor. McGee, track Kenneth Wilkerson's movements for the last 48 hours – I wanna know everything, right down to when he took time out for a piss, clear?" The team leader barked out his orders. He looked over at Tony, who had the familiar look of a man starting to beat himself up. "DiNozzo," he said softly, "with me."

* * *

Tony trudged after his boss, heart thumping wildly in his chest. The two men rode the elevator in silence and walked outside. The day had turned chilly, and they headed towards the riverbank, allowing the breeze to flow over them.

"Talk to me DiNozzo." It wasn't a request.

Tony sighed; he wasn't getting out of this one. "It's just all fucked up Boss," he whispered. "I was sure that Wilkerson was behind this; it all looked too easy, too clean."

"We all felt something off about the crime scene Tony, not just you."

"Yeah, but I dragged McGee and Ziva along for the ride! Hell, I practically told you off for not being open to other alternatives, and it's comin' back to bite me in the ass." Tony rested his forearms on the railing and stared out at the water.

"Hasn't bit you yet," said Gibbs. "You did good tellin' me to pull my head out of my ass – made me look at things a little differently. We all have our Pandora's Box, Tony. Seems like Zeke keeps pushin' the buttons that open yours."

Tony looked up at the older man. The voice was light, but the blue eyes were a different story – they were a mixture of understanding and intensity, a combination he wasn't entirely comfortable being on the receiving end of. The moment was broken with the ringing of a cell phone.

"Yeah, Gibbs." … "Right, good." Gibbs snapped his phone shut. "Got a hit on the BOLO – Baltimore PD picked up Wilkerson and are bringin' him in. They'll be here in half an hour."

"This isn't over yet, Boss. We gotta find Zeke." Tony hated the slightly desperate tone that had crept into his voice, and hoped against hope that Gibbs hadn't picked up on it.

Gibbs said nothing; merely placing a hand on the back of Tony's neck and squeezing gently. The two walked back to the Yard, their resolve strengthening with each step.

* * *

They arrived back at the bullpen to find a somewhat agitated Director Vance stalking the floor like a man possessed. McGee sat behind his computer slightly pale, yet oddly defiant.

"Gibbs. You wanna tell me _why_ it was necessary to have your man hack the CIA?" he demanded.

"Information pertinent to the case, Director. No time to go through proper channels, not when there's a sick kid missing." Gibbs was nonchalant, but his shoulders squared, readying himself for a fight.

Vance glared at him, but knew the lead agent was right. "Officially, this is a verbal reprimand, Agent McGee. Nothing will go in your file, but the Director of the CIA wanted my assurances that this would not go unpunished."

"Yes sir," replied McGee meekly.

"Unofficially, however – you should know better than to hack into a network like that and make so much noise! You're getting sloppy, McGee. Unless it was intentional…?" Vance quirked an eyebrow at the young agent, who just blushed and smothered a grin. "On second thoughts, I don't want to know." He turned on his heel and walked back towards the stairs. "If you need any help, you know where to find me," he called over his shoulder.

Gibbs was nonplussed at the exchange. "Wanna tell me what that was all about McGee?" he drawled.

"Well, I had the idea while I was looking for the intel you wanted on Kenneth. Sometimes, you gotta flush the rats out before you can catch them, right? So, I logged in, and messed around in their networks for a while, making sure they knew someone was in there, then I went straight in to the doctor's files. Knew they'd tip him off, which will force him to show his hand sooner or later."

"And that got Vance so pissed?" asked Tony.

"Well, that and I may have 'accidentally' copied some of this creep's notes and experiments so we know what we're dealing with. I've sent them down to Ducky; he's gonna look over it for us."

Gibbs clapped a hand on McGee's shoulder. "That's good work Tim. The Commander'll be here shortly; I wanna be ready with everything we've got. He's not gonna know what hit him."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7.**

Cameron Wilkerson cursed his own stupidity all the way back to the Navy Yard. He should've known that Gibbs and his team would track him down; there was a reason they were the best at what they did. Admittedly, it probably looked bad that he had run without explanation, but he'd try and appeal to Gibbs' human nature; get him to see reason. They were running out of time. It had been over 3 hours since the initial ransom call and there was not so much of an indication that the money was available _or_ that his son was alive.

The security guards took him to Interrogation Room One and sat him down to wait. He rested his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. "Time to man up Wilkerson," he said to himself.

* * *

Tony stood in the Observation Room and stared at the man in front of him. Here was a man who was just as much to blame for his son's disappearance as anyone else; Tony felt the anger rolling through his body, and fought to keep it under control. McGee joined him shortly, pulling the door closed behind him.

"Any news?"

"On Zeke? No." McGee shook his head regretfully. "I've got a BOLO out, a child endangerment notice out, all hospitals in the area on alert, and am also running facial recognition on all the security cameras within 50 miles of Quantico." He raised his hands at Tony's look of surprise. "I know, I know, it's a long shot, but stranger things have happened."

Tony managed a grin at this. "Thanks Tim."

"Don't thank me yet." McGee clapped a hand on the senior agent's shoulder.

"Have we started yet?" Ziva asked, barrelling into the Obs room.

"Not yet. How's he gonna play this, d'you think?" asked McGee.

"Twenty bucks says he goes in soft and sympathetic. You know, the false sense of security," said Tony, glad of the distraction his teammates were offering.

"No way," scoffed McGee. "All guns blazing; the full Gibbs treatment. He'll have Wilkerson crying like a baby in 2 minutes."

"Ziva, whaddya think?"

"I think he will start slowly. Sympathise with the Commander and then punch below the belt before finishing with a bluff," she said with a wicked smirk.

The door to Interrogation swung open. "Well then, let's get this show on the road," said Tony softly, not taking his eyes off the scene about to unfold in front of him.

* * *

Gibbs walked into Interrogtation, his face carefully expressionless. He didn't want to give anything away; least of all to his team who were no doubt betting on how he would handle this. He sat down opposite Wilkerson, and calmly leafed through a manila folder, pausing every so often to read a document.

Wilkerson squirmed in his seat, little beads of sweat forming on his brow. He had heard of Gibbs' infamous temper, and it seemed as though he was about to experience it first hand. After what felt like hours, he snapped.

"Gibbs, I'm sorry I didn't call you when I left the house. I just… I had to do something!"

Gibbs didn't say anything, merely closed the folder and laced his fingers together in front of him.

Desperation and nerves drove Wilkerson to talk once more. "I know it looks bad, but you gotta realise I just wanted to find my boy!"

"And you thought that Baltimore was a good place to start?" The voice was gentle, but the eyes were hard.

Wilkerson waved his hands around trying to gather his thoughts. "My brother lives in Baltimore, I just thought…" he trailed off.

"Thought what? That your brother had kidnapped your child? His nephew?" Gibbs voice was still placid, calming. "Why didn't you tell us this Cameron? We would've been able to help, you know that."

"I just didn't think that he would… you know, do something like that," he finished lamely.

"Tell me Cameron, are you having financial troubles?" asked Gibbs, leaning forwards in his seat.

"What? No!"

"See, I'm not sure I believe that. We've been through your financial records, and for the life of me I can't understand where all your money is going. Is Zeke's treatment getting too expensive?"

"It's worth every penny Gibbs, if it keeps my boy alive," cried Wilkerson passionately.

"What about your health insurance? Surely they're covering most of it."

Wilkerson sighed heavily. "Some of it, yes, but not all. The medications are expensive, and the Navy seems to think that the ones we're going with are experimental, so they won't pay."

"And your specialist?"

"He's a good man, the doctors at Bethesda recommended him. But he's private, so they only subsidise a portion of it."

Gibbs scratched his head, and pulled a few sheets of paper out of the folder, spreading them out in front of Wilkerson. "Yeah, again, I'm still not following the money trail. Like this regular transaction of $250, to a numbered account in the Caymans – what's that all about?"

"A nest egg, for when I leave the Navy."

"Liar!" Gibbs suddenly roared, pushing his chair back and getting in Wilkerson's face.

Wilkerson jumped back, startled, and began fidgeting once more. "It is, I swear!"

"We're tracing it right now, and I'll bet my pension that it's gonna come back to you. Now you're gonna tell me what's going on, 'cause right now Cameron things are lookin' pretty damn bad. Maybe you've got a gambling problem and you're payin' off a debt. Maybe you've got a drug problem, and your dealer's lookin' for blood. Either way, we're gonna get to the bottom of this, and you're gonna come out worse at the end."

Gibbs stood up, gathered his papers and threw his chair back under the table with a bang. He turned and walked towards the door, and as it opened, he heard the magic word.

"Please. Gibbs please, I'll tell you everything… just please get my boy back."

* * *

Ziva let out a small noise of satisfaction in the Obs room as she held out her hand to collect her winnings. "Do not feel bad boys, you are just losing your touch," she laughed. The three turned back to the window, fascinated with how things were going down.

* * *

Wilkerson began to tell his story:

"When Alison died, I felt like my whole world had fallen apart. Then you guys told me Zeke was sick, even dying, and I just didn't know what to do. I thought a fresh start would be good for both of us. So, we moved to a new house on Base, I transferred to the Weapons Centre, and took Zeke to see the doctor at Bethesda, who recommended Dr Barnes, a paediatric HIV specialist.

"After a couple of months, my brother eventually made contact with me. He's CIA now, but he used to be a doctor in private practice. He's a genius, one of the smartest people I know. He started out in general medicine but eventually branched his studies into biochemistry and genetics. There were some… incidents at his old practice, so he decided enough was enough, and just commenced scientific studies and research through his alma mater. The CIA recruited him after he wrote a couple of papers on biological warfare and the manifestation of genetic mutations throughout third world countries.

"He came to visit, and I told him Zeke was HIV positive. He just smiled and said he'd be able to help, if I was able to pay him. The treatments he was working on were considered experimental at best, so it all had to be done under the table. I was desperate, Agent Gibbs, and my brother told me that they were closer than ever to a cure. I accepted his offer.

"Kenneth would come by twice a week and administer a series of injections to Zeke – my poor boy hated being treated like a pincushion but we told him that it would make him better in the long run. He trusted us… me.

"About two weeks ago, Zeke came down with the flu. His specialist was concerned as it seemed like a worse strain than just your garden-variety bug, so Zeke was placed on antibiotics and his HIV meds were altered slightly. I told Kenneth about this and he laughed. He said that Barnes was a quack who had lost touch with reality, and that he knew how to cure his nephew of it all. He wanted to take Zeke with him for some longer-term treatments; I don't know what was involved with them. I'd been feeling a little nervous about some of Ken's ideas for a while now, so I said no – that we'd keep going with what we'd been doing and just leave things be for a while. He was pissed, but I thought he got over it. Apparently not."

Wilkerson put his head into his hands once more and began to cry. "I failed my boy Gibbs. I just wanted him to get better so he could grow up and be normal, and I failed him!"

Gibbs sat impassively across from the sobbing man. Part of his heart was breaking; after all, who wouldn't want to do anything they could for their child? Finally he spoke. "We'll figure this out Cameron. And we'll get your boy back."

* * *

Kenneth Wilkerson arrived back at the safe house intent on administering the next round of medications to his young nephew. He walked in, and headed down the hallway. Finding the bedroom door wide open and the child nowhere in sight, he let out a roar of frustration, punching the wall in his anger. This was not good. This was _definitely_ not good.

* * *

Zeke had been walking again for almost an hour. He was tired, and thirsty, and incredibly hot – he couldn't remember feeling this hot in his entire life. He had no idea where he was, but was somewhere in a town. He had walked past several cafes and shops, so he figured that wherever he was, he was probably safe enough. His little tummy had been hurting for some time now, and he'd been forced to stop and throw up a few times along the way. There was nothing left in his system apart from bile, and he hated it when he was this sick. Desperately struggling not to cry, he made his way over to a small park and curled up on his side under a tree. His vision had been blurring and doubling for some time, and he rubbed his eyes, trying to see the world about him.

A gentle voice spoke from somewhere near him – he couldn't discern where. "Buddy, you okay?" A hand reached out and he shrieked and batted it away. "Hey, take it easy pal, it's okay. I'm a police officer." The cop was insistent in trying to comfort the child, but Zeke fought back pitifully. The last thing the little boy remembered before he passed out was green eyes. "Agent Tony," he breathed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Okie-dokie, firstly – any of the following medical mumbo-jumbo is exactly that. I'm not a doctor, or a sciencey person, I'm a terrorism and counter-terrorism major. So I'm winging it here, thanks to the wonders of the Internet. Also, I hope hope **_**hope**_** that none of what I mention down here is even real, but let's face it, who can trust their governments these days? Pfft. Onwards! xoxoxo**

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Chapter 8.

The three younger agents walked out of the Observation Room in silence; all three were stunned. They thought that this sort of thing was more the work of fiction, and yet it was happening right in front of them. Tony was the first to snap out of it.

"McGee, Ziva: check the BOLO's for the kid, also start looking for Kenneth," he barked.

"On it," they replied, already hurrying down the hall.

Tony headed to the elevator and went down to Autopsy.

* * *

The doors to Autopsy opened with a _whoosh_ and Tony walked in. Ducky looked up in surprise. "Ah, Anthony, I wasn't expecting you!"

"Gibbs is in Interrogation with Wilkerson," replied Tony shortly. "What'd you find out of those notes McGee sent you?"

"Right. Yes, well there is no doubt in my mind that Doctor Wilkerson is a highly intelligent man, with an amazing mind for the possibilities of the science of bio-technology. However, I believe that his so-called treatments are somewhat unbelievable."

"Meaning what exactly, Duck?"

"Well, it seemed as though he intended to drain the child of his blood, cleanse it, almost through a dialysis machine, and replace it to his body supplemented with genetically modified antibodies and white blood cells."

Tony was gobsmacked. "Is that even possible?"

"Well, according to the Doctor's notes, he has conducted experiments with rats and rabbits with mixed results. It would seem that he was waiting to get his hands on a human trial before he could conclusively prove or disprove his theory."

"I don't want to sound like a heartless bastard," Tony began, "but why use his nephew? If he needed a human guinea pig, why not use a prisoner or someone like that?"

Ducky shrugged his shoulders. "Your guess is as good as mine, Anthony. I believe it is due to the fact that his subject is a child, and a large percentage of the world's HIV sufferers are children. Possibly he felt that it was for the greater good. It's hard to say at this stage."

Tony turned to leave. Ducky hesitated a beat before calling out to him. "Anthony, there's more."

Tony stopped in his place, not looking at the elderly physician. "Do I want to hear it?"

"The treatments that Dr Wilkerson has been administering over the last few months were to prepare young Zeke for this procedure. He has been giving the child a hormone stimulant that is designed to manipulate the growth of healthy red and white blood cells so they are able to support this radical treatment. Without continuation of this, or a supplementary treatment, Zeke will become quite ill."

Tony said nothing; merely walked out of Autopsy and into the sanctity of the waiting elevator. As soon as it was going, he flipped the emergency stop button, plunging the box into semi-darkness. Flooded with a sudden rage, he began punching the wall and swearing, desperate to blow off a little steam. After a couple of minutes, he flicked the switch again and went back up to the bullpen.

* * *

Gibbs noticed the reddened knuckles on his senior agent almost immediately, but wisely chose not to say anything. He saw Ziva open her mouth to comment, and shook his head almost imperceptibly. She nodded and flashed a look of her own over to McGee. He also nodded, receiving the message loud and clear.

For almost ten minutes the four worked in silence, until the shrill ringtone of McGee's cell shattered the tension. "McGee," he answered, reaching for a pen and paper. "Really? Well, where?" … "Oh shit, you're kidding." … "Get him to Bethesda, we'll contact his doctors and meet you there." He disconnected the call. "That was Baltimore PD," he said, looking up at the expectant faces of his team. "They found Zeke. He was asking for, and I quote, 'Agent Tony'. They saw the BOLO and called us rightaway."

"Is he alright Tim?" asked Ziva.

McGee shook his head. "He's pretty sick; they found him lying under a tree in Tennant Square Park, just east of the CBD. He was freaking out pretty bad when they found him."

Tony was strangely quiet, his hand tightening over his mouse as he stared at the computer screen.

"DiNozzo, you and Ziva go meet Zeke at Bethesda," called Gibbs.

Tony's head shot up. "Me? You sure Boss?"

"McGee said he was askin' for Agent Tony; pretty sure that's you," the lead agent smirked.

Tony didn't need to be told twice; he leapt to his feet and grabbed his jacket, gun and badge, and sprinted towards the elevator, Ziva right behind him.

"Boss? What are you gonna do?" asked McGee.

"I'm gonna go talk to Wilkerson," came the reply.

* * *

On a typical day, the drive from the Navy Yard to Bethesda Naval Hospital was normally around twenty minutes. Tony made it in ten, driving like a man possessed.

He parked the car and dashed into the Emergency Room, pulling his badge out as he went. "Special Agent DiNozzo, NCIS – here for Zeke Wilkerson, he's comin' in from Baltimore," he said breathlessly to the receptionist.

"He's not in yet, Agent DiNozzo. We just got word from the ambulance that they're about ten minutes out. Are you his next of kin?" she asked.

Ziva neatly stepped in front of Tony. "He was reported missing this morning; he is to be under protective custody until his kidnapper is located. We are the agents assigned to his case," she explained.

The receptionist nodded. "You'll need to wait over there," she said, pointing at a row of chairs, "but once he comes in I'll be sure to let you know."

"Thank you," smiled Ziva, as she firmly grasped Tony's elbow and manoeuvred him towards the waiting area.

"Ow!" he complained. "What's that all about?"

"You had that look on your face," she retorted.

"What look?"

"The look that says you want to cause a scene."

"Hey! DiNozzo's don't cause scenes, thank you very much Zee-vah! We just like to get our way is all," he shot back, somewhat miffed.

"Uh-huh," she smirked. "Whatever you say Tony."

It was closer to twenty minutes before the receptionist came over to the two agents. "They've just brought him in; he's in Exam Room Two. I explained to the doctors that he was under protective custody, they said you can wait outside the room until they're ready to talk to you."

Tony was up and tearing down the hall to the examination room. Ziva threw a quick "thank you!" to the receptionist, and raced after him.

* * *

The sight that met Tony through the window of the exam room was a heartbreaking one. The brave little boy was being connected to various monitors and IV's, and being wiped down with what must have been cold towels. He was unconscious and on oxygen. He bit his lip fiercely, determined not to let his emotions get the better of him. Ziva slipped a comforting hand into his, and squeezed tightly. One of the nurses who'd been working on him in caught sight of the two agents standing anxiously outside; he stepped out of the room to talk to them.

"He's a fighter this kid, that's for sure. His heartbeat's been erratic for some time now, we're trying to get it under control but until we know for sure what's in his system…" he let his sentence hang.

"Call NCIS and ask to speak with Dr Donald Mallard," instructed Ziva. "He has information regarding the medications the child has been subjected to."

"Will do, and thanks." He turned to walk back into the room.

"Just a sec," called Tony. His breath hitched a little, but when he spoke his voice was clear. "If he wakes up, tell him Tony's here, and everything's gonna be alright."

The nurse nodded and flashed a sympathetic smile their way before shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Gibbs was standing in the Obs room, just watching Wilkerson through the glass. He'd been asking himself over and over if he wouldn't have done exactly the same thing if he was in the other man's position; it was a question he couldn't answer, not in a million years. His cell phone buzzed in his pocket; he glanced at the caller ID. DiNozzo.

"_Boss, I think you better get Wilkerson down here."_

"How bad?"

"_Bad. He's crashed twice. Doctors have spoken to Ducky to see what the drugs are; they said the steroid-and-hormone combination is sending his body into overdrive."_

"On our way." Gibbs snapped the phone shut, and raked a hand through his hair. He looked at Wilkerson for a minute longer, took a deep breath and left his post.

* * *

Kenneth Wilkerson was beyond pissed. He drove in circles, desperate to find where the kid had gone, and was coming up with nothing.

His cell phone rang, snapping him out of his headspace. Yes?"

"_They've found the child. He's being transferred to Bethesda Naval."_

"What about the feds? And my brother?"

"_NCIS have him in custody."_

He disconnected the call and smiled. This could work out after all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Once again, thanks to all for reading, reviewing, alerting, yada yada yada. Onwards! xoxo**

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Chapter 9.

Gibbs drove to Bethesda at his usual breakneck speed; Cameron Wilkerson, no longer a suspect, seated next to him. Nothing was said between the two since they left the Interrogation Room. Gibbs knew that the other man was punishing himself enough for getting involved with his brother; he also knew that had the situations been reversed, he probably would have done the same thing.

Wilkerson was pale, and his jaw was set, as he mumbled prayers under his breath. Gibbs had briefly explained the situation his son was in. 'Hang on little man, just hang on,' he thought to himself.

* * *

Tony stood motionless, staring in the window of the examination room where Zeke lay. Ziva was in the waiting room coordinating the search for Kenneth Wilkerson with McGee, with little luck. She stormed back in to the emergency department; Tony could practically see the steam coming from her ears.

"He has vanished, it seems, from the face of the Earth!" she spat.

"He's a Spook, Ziva, it's his job," he replied absently, his eyes returning to the little boy behind the glass.

"Yes, but we are better than that! It should be a piece of pie to find him and we have nothing." She deliberately mixed up her idiom in an attempt to distract her partner somewhat. His silence confused her; she thought he would have been more upset to know that the perp was possibly slipping right through their fingers. 'He is more upset about this child than we first thought,' she thought. Trying once more to get through to him, she asked, "I assume Gibbs is on the way?"

"About 5 minutes out," came the reply.

Giving up in frustration, she threw her hands into the air and proceeded to sit in the hall opposite the door.

* * *

Kenneth Wilkerson swung his car into the parking lot and grabbed his bag. He would have to move quickly, that much was a given. The issue was: how to gain access to the child? Retrieving his credentials from his case, he jogged to the entrance of the ER, pausing only momentarily to flash his identification to the receptionist. He moved down the hall and ducked into a stairwell. Pausing to gain his breath, he peered out the door and assessed the situation. Two agents, both with weapons holstered, milled around outside one of the examination rooms. The doctor wasn't a betting man, but he would have wagered a month's salary that they were guarding the boy. His agile mind began formulating a plan – it was almost go time.

* * *

Tony's cell buzzed in his pocket. "Yeah, Boss," he said, without bothering to look at the caller ID.

"_We're in the waiting room. Grab the doctor or someone and meet us here."_

Tony grunted an agreement and disconnected the call. He opened the door to the examination room and beckoned to the doctor, who nodded and stepped outside to speak with the agent.

"Zeke's father is in the waiting room with my Boss," he said abruptly. "They wanna talk to you."

The doctor nodded once more, and gestured down the hallway. "Shall we?"

Ziva placed a hand on Tony's shoulder. "I will stay with Zeke. You should talk to Gibbs," she said quietly. She had been watching the internal struggle playing across her partner's face, and knew that touching base with Gibbs would help set things straight – for a little while.

Tony flashed her a small smile, and followed the doctor down to the waiting room.

* * *

Kenneth watched as the ER doctor walked from the room with one of the agent's in tow, a smile spreading over his face. One agent was easier to take on than two, and he felt confident that the smaller woman would pose no problem. He checked his case for what he called his arsenal – a variety of sedatives, plus the medications for the child – and pulled out a morphine injection.

He crept out of his hiding place, and moved silently down the hall, coming up behind Ziva. Moving quickly, he placed a hand over her mouth and sank the injection into her neck, just below the jawline and into the carotid artery. He caught her as she fell and lowered her carelessly onto the floor.

The doctor eased the door to the examination room open, where Zeke lay unconscious and connected to various tubes, and smiled. This was going to be even easier than he thought.

* * *

Tony could barely look at Cameron Wilkerson; the grief was obvious on the man's face, but the agent wasn't entirely convinced of his innocence. Gibbs shot him a questioning glance, to which he responded with a shrug and a tilt of the head. There would be time for self-recriminations later. He and Gibbs would sit in the basement, drink bourbon and solve the problems of the world once more. Mentally slapping himself in the back of the head, he focussed once more on what the doctor was saying.

"… his fever was up to around 103-104, so we've been primarily trying to get that down. It's not an uncommon side effect with steroid treatments, particularly the ones your brother was using," the doctor said not unkindly.

Cameron went pale at the thought of what his brother had been doing to his child. "How do you know what he was doing?" he whispered.

"Dr Mallard from NCIS has filled me in on the treatments your brother was doing; I believe he got the information directly from the CIA. I have spoken to Dr Barnes and he is on his way here."

Cameron nodded, his Adam's apple moving up and down as he fought to retain his composure. "And… you told Agent DiNozzo that Zeke… _died _a couple of times?"

"His heart stopped," the doctor corrected, "but we were able to resuscitate him. He is on a ventilator at the moment to help him breathe, and we are monitoring all his vital signs carefully."

"Can… can I see him?" The pain in the Commander's voice was unlike anything Tony had ever heard in his life, and it both surprised and frightened him.

The doctor opened his mouth to answer, but before he could his pager began signalling an alert. Glancing at it, he frowned and promptly took off at a run down the hall. "He's coding!" he yelled back over his shoulder.

* * *

**Yes, I know that was unsatisfyingly short BUT I had to put something up! Having a wee bit of writer's block at the moment but if I didn't update soon I reckon there would've been a very angry mob after me. Exams tomorrow so may not update until Tuesday or Wednesday. But you never can tell, can ye? xo**


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay, before anyone says anything, I have no idea of the layout of the Bethesda Naval Hospital's ER, but I've been in enough in my short life to know that they're a flippin' maze. So, creative license is my friend. And reviewing is yours. Subtle enough? xoxoxoxo**

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Chapter 10.

Kenneth Wilkerson chuckled to himself; this really was too easy. He sank the first injection directly into Zeke's IV line, which he knew contained HIV antibodies. He then disconnected the saline drip which had been running into the back of the child's hand, and injected the second one into the cannula.

He reached into a basin and retrieved a wet cool washcloth and began running it over the child's face and arms. "You're my special little project, Zeke," he crooned softly. "I'm never gonna let anything happen to you."

Zeke's eyes began to flutter, and the fingers in his right hand began to twitch. "Daddy?" he croaked weakly. And then just as quickly, his eyes rolled back in his head. The monitors he was connected to came to life, sirens and alerts shattering the silence of the exam room. Kenneth looked at them all in concern; this was definitely not supposed to happen. He checked his patient's vitals – Zeke's heart rate was sporadic, his oxygen levels plummeting. He heard the footsteps coming down the hall, and did the only thing that was logical – he bolted.

* * *

Gibbs saw him first, dashing down the hallway. Unholstering his weapon, he called out to Tony, "DiNozzo! Down the hall!" He needn't have spoken; Tony was after Dr Wilkerson like a shot. Gibbs backtracked, intending on heading off Kenneth from the other direction. He had an intimate knowledge of the hospital's emergency department, thanks to the countless times his team had been brought here. He dashed around the corner of the nurse's station and flattened himself against the wall, moving slowly along it. He was an agent down, his second in command was coming from the other direction and he had no backup. He cursed silently; they should've anticipated something like this.

* * *

The ER doctor began administering CPR on Zeke, all the time barking orders at the other doctor and nurses that had congregated in the room when the alarms went off. Cameron stood motionless at the foot of the bed, lips moving in a silent prayer. One of the nurses took pity on him, and ushered him outside. He slumped against the wall and put his head in his hands.

* * *

A resident hovered over Ziva, trying to establish what had caused the healthy young agent to apparently collapse. A small bruise was forming on her neck, and further inspection revealed a puncture wound where the injection had gone. Calling for an orderly, they carefully loaded her onto a gurney and took her to a curtained area for a more thorough examination.

* * *

McGee was back at the office, waiting impatiently to hear from any member of his team. His phone beeped and he lunged at it; it was an 'SOS' message from Gibbs. The team leader had asked him to set it up on all their phones so that the touch of a button could alert the other members of the team that urgent assistance was needed.

MgGee grabbed his gun and badge and, ignoring the elevators, sprinted down the stairs to the garage. He called the Director's office from the car. "Cynthia, it's McGee," he said. "Tell Vance that there's trouble at Bethesda. We'll be in touch ASAP."

* * *

Tony was seething. Not only had this scumbag attacked his partner, he'd deliberately hurt the child – _again_. He came to a corner in the hallway, flattened himself against the wall and eased around, gun at the ready. For the first time ever, he was thankful he'd been in this particular ER so many times. He had intimate knowledge of every nook and cranny, seeing as how he'd signed himself out AMA on several occasions, and often needed to dodge the well-meaning staff. He slipped silently down the corridor, ignoring the security alarms and the sounds of a hospital going into lockdown. Kenneth was his focus now; nothing else mattered.

* * *

Gibbs kept his gun at the ready, feeling himself slipping into combat mode. He moved quickly, clearing each curtained area and room with an efficiency second to none. His gut was clenching tightly, and his instincts were in top gear. Coming to the end of the corridor, he swung around sharply only to come face to face with his senior agent. Breathing a short sigh of relief, he looked at the younger man and jerked his head towards a set of swinging doors with a giant 'No Entry – Authorised Personnel Only' sign tacked over them. They moved forward together, and slammed the doors open, finding themselves in the entrance to the ICU.

* * *

Kenneth heard the doors fly open and braced himself for the inevitable. He knew deep down that he would have never been able to walk out of the hospital scot-free – but he intended to have at least another bargaining chip up his sleeve. Blindly reaching through the range of drugs in his briefcase, his fingers closed over a large syringe. He looked at the comatose patient in the room he had taken refuge in, and assessed the man's condition. He disconnected on of the IV lines and prepared the syringe. When the agents came in, he would be ready.

* * *

Tony and Gibbs worked in synch, as they had done so many times before. Clearing each room, each darkened space, they systematically worked the room. The staff were on the floor behind the desks, under gurneys – anywhere an available hiding spot was. The two agents came to the last room, approaching it warily from the wall. Exchanging a brief look with his boss, Tony took a deep breath and flung himself in through the doorway, weapon raised. "NCIS, freeze!" he barked, training his gun on Kenneth's head. Gibbs followed him in, his own weapon pointed at the man's heart.

"Hold it right there or this man dies," Kenneth said softly. Gibbs and Tony stopped in their tracks, trying to establish what was going on. "I have in this vial a compound of my own making – a delightful mixture of cyanide, sodium pentathol and arsenic. I've been simply _dying_ to try this out on something other than lab rats, and this fellow makes a remarkable candidate."

"What do you want?" asked Gibbs calmly.

"Simple. I want to walk out of here."

"Fat chance of that," snarled Tony.

"DiNozzo!" warned Gibbs. Turning to Kenneth, he said, "I don't believe you. You wouldn't have risked everything you've worked for by coming here just to walk out."

"It doesn't matter what you believe, Agent, it's the truth. Well, partly. Firstly, I want to examine the child. He is, after all, my patient."

"You were seen running from his room! You drugged a Federal Agent for Christ's sake! What makes you think you deserve to walk away from all this?" asked Tony, valiantly trying to keep his temper.

"Agent… DiNozzo, is it? My work is vital to this country, and to our operations around the world. The CIA will support me completely, make no mistake. Now, you and your colleague here are going to holster your weapons, and then you will escort me down to see my young nephew. I rather suspect that his father will react quite severely to seeing me, and I would prefer to have the support of two highly trained federal agents."

Tony and Gibbs exchanged another glance, neither one quite ready to give in to this mad man.

"So what's it to be gentlemen? Make your choice!"

* * *

**So - *hopefully* will have another one or two chappies after this one, in the next couple of days. But for now, I'm orf to bed. Bahahaha! xo**


	11. Chapter 11

**Alrighty, possibly a teeny-tiny bit AU or OOC – there will no doubt be some who have issues with LEO's about to take the route that these blokes are. Also, just a warning, there's a wee bit of rough language in here, but it's much, **_**much**_** less than a Tarantino film. There you go.**

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Chapter 11.

Tony couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Gibbs lowering his weapon. "Gibbs, what the hell are you doing?" he hissed.

Gibbs looked at him and cocked an eyebrow. Tony took that to mean _trust me_ and the loyal St Bernard in him was inclined to do just that… and yet, he hesitated. "Don't make me order you, DiNozzo," the older man said softly.

Kenneth was elated; he'd half-believed that they would've put a bullet in him by now. "A wise move gentlemen. Now, I suggest we make our way out of here and allow this poor fellow to continue his recuperation in peace."

"Hold on a minute doc," said Gibbs. "Where's the syringe?" Kenneth held it up and waved it. "Place it on the floor, and kick it over here."

He complied with the lead agent's order, his movements slow and arrogant. The vial rolled over the floor and came to a stop a few feet from where the two agents were standing. Tony leant over and picked it up, slipping it into an evidence bag he'd fished from his pocket.

Kenneth clapped his hands together in a businesslike manner. "Right then chaps, shall we move?" He started to walk out of the room, oozing with a cockiness that made Tony want to scream.

* * *

The three men walked down the hall of the ICU, Tony and Gibbs half a step behind Kenneth. The doors to the Unit suddenly flew open, and an angry voice roared, "where is he?"

They stopped, the agents both reaching for their holstered guns. They watched, mesmerised, as a large figure barrelled down the hall and launched himself on Kenneth in a rugby tackle. "Cameron," breathed Tony.

The Lt. Commander had his older brother pinned to the ground, one hand holding him down at his chest, the other clenched tightly, ready to punch. "You killed my boy!" he screamed, fist punctuating each word.

Gibbs and Tony watched for a second longer before trying to pull him off Kenneth. They eventually succeeded, the three falling to the ground in a heap. "Stand down sailor!" Gibbs roared in his best Gunnery-Sergeant voice. Cameron instinctively snapped to attention, mentally at least, before coming to his senses once again. He broke down in sobs, his body heaving and shaking with the sudden flood of emotions. Gibbs wrapped his arms around him, in a futile attempt to comfort him. Tony sat back, stunned. Had Wilkerson said what he thought he'd said?

Kenneth took advantage of the momentary lapse in the agents' judgement to try and sneak away. He crawled along the floor for a few paces before pulling himself up and, managing a rather lopsided run, tried to make his getaway. His escape was cut up short with McGee walking in and pointing a gun directly at his head.

"Going somewhere doc?" the young agent enquired, before grabbing the other man by the front of his shirt and slamming him against the wall.

* * *

McGee read Kenneth Wilkerson his rights as he cuffed him, making sure the cuffs were just a _little_ too tight for comfort, and handed him over to O'Hare's team, who had arrived on scene just after him. "Throw him in Interrogation; we'll process him when we can," he called to them. He headed over to Gibbs, who was standing off to one side, watching as Zeke's treating doctor spoke quietly to Cameron. "Boss?"

"What happened?" Gibbs didn't look at McGee, but he knew not to take it to heart.

"Chronic heart failure Boss. Kenneth overdosed him on… well, they're not sure on what exactly, the tox screens will come back with that info. His little body was having difficulties adjusting to the new treatments, on top of the flu antibiotics _and_ the meds that Dr Barnes prescribed. Dr Wilkerson might've thought that he had all the answers but he screwed the pooch."

Gibbs rubbed a hand over his face. "What about Ziva?"

"Drugs are wearing off; he stuck her with a morphine shot straight to the neck. Lucky the dosage wasn't high, it could've killed her."

"How's she doin'?"

"She's pissed that he, and I quote, 'got the hop on her', but otherwise she's fine," McGee said, a trace of a smile in his voice. "Babbling in a combination of Hebrew, German, Spanish, English… you know, the usual. Kind of like Tony on painkillers but a little scarier. And I'm pretty sure I now know the word for paperclip in four different languages."

Gibbs managed a smile at the information, but as he thought of Tony his face fell once more. "Where's DiNozzo?"

McGee hesitated. "He's in with Zeke."

* * *

Tony sat next to the bed where the child lay. The machines and IV lines had all been disconnected, if it weren't for the intubation tube sticking out of his mouth and the slightly grey pallor of his skin, Tony could've sworn he was asleep.

"I'm so sorry big guy," he said softly, reaching out to brush Zeke's hair from his forehead. "I'm sorry we couldn't get to you in time, I'm sorry I didn't make an effort to see you again after your Dad came home, I'm sorry for a lot of things.

"When I looked after you all those months ago, it made me think… y'know, that maybe one day I might get the chance to have a kid of my own. All I could think was I could never hurt a kid the way your mom hurt you. The way my own parents screwed me up. I shoulda tried to keep in touch with you kid, you were always gonna have a rough time of it."

"You were his hero," a voice said from the doorway. Tony stiffened in his seat at the sound; he knew exactly who the voice belonged to.

Cameron leaned against the doorframe, gazing at his child. "He would run around the house getting me to play the bad guy, and he'd be Agent Tony coming in to save the day." He smiled a little at the memory. "He used to say that when he grew up, after he finished in the Navy and had won a gold medal at the Olympics, that he'd join NCIS and you and he could catch the bad guys together."

Tony grinned slightly. "Ambitious kid."

"You're tellin' me. And now…" his voice trailed off.

"Yeah, well, whose fault is that?" Tony stood up and began to walk from the room.

"Don't judge me too harshly, Agent DiNozzo," the other man said quietly, blocking his exit. "I'll live with the guilt forever. But at the time I honestly thought I was doing the right thing. I would've done anything if it meant my boy had a chance of a normal life. I hope to God that you're never in the same situation."

Tony glared at him for a moment, but Wilkerson just met his eyes with a calm acknowledgement of defeat. It was a look Tony was familiar with; it was the look that his own father had used on him the last time they met. Finally, Wilkerson moved out of the way, and Tony swept out of the room, not looking back.

* * *

Tony sat slumped on his couch, ESPN playing on the television in front of him. He mindlessly took another swing of whiskey, this one directly from the bottle. He'd learned years ago that drinking never eased the effects of a rough case, but he didn't care. Tonight he just wanted to feel nothing. He didn't want to see the kid's face every time he closed his eyes, he didn't want to see his boss _lowering his fucking weapon_ when they had the perfect shot in front of them, he didn't want to see his partner lying unconscious on the floor because of some psycho… the only scene he liked to replay from the day was the younger of the two brothers beating up on the elder.

His phone buzzed next to him. He contemplated not picking up, but decided it would be better in the long run if he just answered.

"DiNozzo."

"_Hey man."_

"Hey Probie, what's up?"

"_Just checkin' on ya, makin' sure you're alright."_

"All sunshine and rainbows on this end McPity," he said a little sharply. There was silence on the other end, followed by a sigh.

"_It's not pity you dumbass, its concern. But forget it, I know you're alive and by the sounds of it well on your way to getting hammered, so I'll just see you tomorrow. It's your turn to pick up coffees." _

"Tim, hang on a sec. That came out all wrong. No I'm not fine but yes I will be. And yes I am getting drunk. And yes I'll pick up coffee. Sorry for snarling man. We good?"

"'_Course we are. Want company tonight?"_

"Nah, it's all good. Besides, I'm sure you've got your hands full with Ziva."

"_That's the understatement of the century. Next time, __**you**__ get drug-addled Israeli duty, we clear?"_

Tony laughed a soft genuine laugh. "Crystal, Probie. See you tomorrow." He rung off before the other man could reply.

* * *

Shortly after McGee's phone call, Tony found himself dozing off on the couch. A knock on the door snapped him back to reality. He climbed a little clumsily to his feet and answered the knock.

"Thought you might like company," said Gibbs by way of greeting.

"Uh… Boss? No offense, but I really don't. Not tonight anyways." Tony enunciated his words carefully, not wanting to give the older man more than a hint of how much he'd had to drink.

The piercing blue eyes assessed him frankly, and Tony shrank a little under the gaze. "How much've you had tonight?"

"Oh… a little," he hedged.

"Uh-huh." The blue eyes continued to bore into Tony's, seemingly into his soul, until he turned away squirming.

"Okay, more than a little, but can you blame me?" he snapped, going to the kitchen and grabbing two beers.

"Nope."

"I mean, we had the perfect shot! We could've taken the sonofabitch down and you lowered your gun! Whatever happened to not negotiating with terrorists?"

"He wasn't a terrorist DiNozzo."

"Maybe not the strictest definitions of one but he's still a fucking nutbag!"

"Okay, I'll buy that," Gibbs nodded and took a swig of his beer. "So where do we draw the line? Where's the line between law enforcement and a vigilante?"

Tony turned on him, a murderous glint in his eye. "Don't you fucking _dare_ pull that card on me Gibbs! You took the law into your own hands with Hernandez!"

Gibbs didn't flinch. "You're right. Did I feel better? A little. But not enough. And look where it got me… hell, all of us in the end? Damn near got us killed. Where does it stop?"

Tony said nothing, just took another swig of whiskey and followed it with a long draught of beer.

"Vance got the Director of the CIA involved."

Tony looked at Gibbs in surprise. "You're kidding!"

"Would I kid about that? Seems the good doctor has pissed off a lot of people, and the fact that he went after the kid of a decorated Naval officer… well, that was just the icing on the cake."

"Who did the interrogation?"

"I did. He was bragging about his research, so we just gave him enough rope to hang himself. You should've stuck around Tony, you missed a hell of a show."

Tony didn't say anything, just picked at the label on his bottle. "I fucked up, Gibbs."

"Yep. We all did, DiNozzo. But drinkin' isn't gonna change anything."

"Maybe not. It'd be nice not to feel anything though."

"Rule 10. Hardest of the lot." Gibbs clapped a hand on Tony's shoulder and squeezed gently. "You didn't fail him Tony. His father did."

"Yeah, well, small comfort that is." Tony put his now-empty bottle on the coffee table and leaned back into the couch with a sigh.

Gibbs reached around and smacked the back of his head, albeit gently. "Suck it up DiNozzo. We got the bad guy. You've been in the game long enough to know that it doesn't always work out for the innocent ones."

"So what then, Boss? We just keep doin' what we're doin' and hope for the best?" he fired back angrily.

"Yep. We do it for the ones we couldn't save. Zeke'll become your talisman, your reality check. He'll keep the fire lit in ya. Just gotta believe it Tony."

The two men sat in contemplative silence for a few minutes, watching the game on the television, neither really seeing it. Tony finally broke the quiet. "Thanks Boss."

"Anytime, DiNozzo."

**

* * *

**

That's the end of the story! Thanks to all of you that read, reviewed, alerted, favourited, etc etc. Special thanks to my lovely friends WCUGirl (Jen) and scousemuz1k – you guys rock! Incidentally, if anyone at all cares where the title of the story came from, it's a Paul Dempsey song - he's an Aussie rock muso, brilliant guy, ex-frontman of the band Something for Kate. I suggest you check him out! xoxoxo


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